


Justice and Learning

by KannaOphelia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Founders Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2446835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have done many things in my life that required more than their fair allotment of bravery. I let Godric drag me into a den of vampires in the mountains, and only by thinking of the bereaved villagers could I force myself to take the first step into their tomb. I wandered alone into a werewolf haunted forest to gather some unicorn hairs for one of Salazar's potions. Once, I even told a nine year old Helena Ravenclaw that she was wrong in her interpretation of an Elder Futhark inscription. I am no stranger to gathering my courage around me like a garment.</p>
<p>I tell no lie when I say that walking into Rowena's bedchamber the evening after our quarrel made my hands shake like nothing else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice and Learning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitmarlowed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmarlowed/gifts).



The child stood in a little glade amid the trees, raising her hands in front of her and laughing for joy. The leaves swirled up towards her, then dispersed, then circled and swirled again, over and over.

From her filthy clothes, and the scent of fired wood lingering on the air, I supposed she was the child of a Muggle charcoal burner. The girl had obviously slipped out unaccompanied. She was probably risking a beating if discovered, and I pondered what to do if that happened. I should not, of course, challenge the God-given right of her parents to discipline and correct her, but I could not bear the thought of such innocent, magical joy being interrupted by violence. 

There was always the option of a Confundus charm..

"Helga?" I felt a touch on my sleeve. A beloved touch, a touch that at the right moments could make my inner self warm and melt as goldenly as heated honey. Still, at this moment, an unwelcome one.

"Hush!" It was too late. The child turned, startled, and prepared to flee like a nymph. Sighing and cursing Rowena's ill timing, I hurried forward and caught hold of a thin little arm. At least Rowena had mastered the art of apparating almost silently; a whip crack would have sent the child fleeing before I could catch her.

"Little one, where are you from? What is your name? Who are your parents?"

She stared at me with round grey eyes, too intimidated by our rich linens--bought with Rowena' family wealth--to speak. Close up, her skin was marked with scars from a childhood illness and blotched with starvation, her hair lank, bruises bellow her eyes, her bones far too obvious. She stank with blood; she was obviously bleeding through her clothes and, unlike a gentlewoman who would hide the smell with perfumes and spices, she wore it proudly as the proof of her marriageability, despite her tender age. I could sense, without even looking, Rowena's nose wrinkle with distaste.

"I mean you no harm, dear," I said, my tone as loving as I could make it. Truly, I did already love her a little, for the joy with which the magic had flooded out of her. "Could you point to where your parents live?"

A small hand with broken and torn nails pointed to the smoke curling beyond. I had been right in my deductions; something that always pleases me.

"Thank you; good girl." I looked down into her ugly, uncared for face, and a question that had been fighting back and forth in my mind, unspoken to my friends, suddenly answered itself. "I will come visit your family soon. Oh, do not fear! I mean merely to offer you an apprenticeship. . . At my school. A school for very special children like yourself."

Rowena stiffened beside me, but I ignored her, and bent and kissed the child. "Run home now, before you are missed. _Guadius!_ " 

My new little friend's face lit up with joy as the Cheering charm took hold. "Thank you, milady!" she said, her fear gone, and turned to run. At the edge of the glade she hesitated, then called back: "Gloiumed, milady!"

I smiled at her. "Well met, Gloiumed. I am Mistress Hufflepuff."

Rowena barely waited until the leaves had settled behind the girl before turning on me.

"Well! Helga, you have no right--"

"I have every right, darling heart," I said, as calmly as I could. Rowena's dark-rimmed eyes were darker still with fury, the very tip of her aquiline nose reddened with the flames of her temper. "We agreed that the four of us should choose our students together, did we not?"

"Together?" She half spat the word. "Did I forget you consulting with us?"

That did make my courage waver a little. I knew perfectly well that I had accomplished the feat before facing my friends, for fear that even my stubborn heart could be talked out of it. To tell truth, I did not like Rowena facing me with such anger, either. Although her temper was an impatient one, she seldom lost it with me; I had long ago learned the trick of greeting her brusqueness with gentleness, and thus disarming it.   
Seeing my best beloved looking at me with something akin to hatred hurt enough that for a moment I thought of disclaiming my intentions and seeking a forgiving embrace.

I brought back into my mind the image of Gloiumed, laughing to see her own magic. I had made the child a promise, both aloud and in my heart, as binding as any scared or magical vow. I would not break that self-imposed trust. Not even for Rowena, with whom I had slept on the same pillow since her first wild grief of widowhood had made her cling to her spinster friend. Not even for Rowena, whose slow, distant smile I lived for.

Once, in our youth, I had quarrelled so badly with Salazar that he had jinxed me to old maidenhood. At the time, it had made me weep bitterly, even as, repentant, he vainly tried to find a wizard to release the curse. To never have children of my own! To never know love! Now, sharing Rowena's life, listening to her sweet breath at night, I didn't mind so much. I knew little of marriage, but it seemed from observation to have little of the pleasure and freedom of my life. Besides, now I looked forward to being mother to a whole school of children.

Starting with Gloiumed. I hardened my resolve. 

"The poor child is a witch, Rowena, living among Muggles. She deserves to learn to govern her power before she loses it, or is hanged as a witch without truly being one."

"Salazar will never countenance it!" It was true, so I said nothing. Salazar would come later, once I had my friend on my side. I hoped. "Look at the Muggle child, Helga. Are you convinced that she is even fully human? A face like that might speak of dwarf ancestry. Impossible. No, Salazar will put an end to your nonsense."

The deliberate cruelty of it, coming from beautiful Rowena, with her perfect features and her form like a reed bending in the grass, with her own cosseted daughter looking to be more beautiful than even her mother, fanned my own slow-rising temper. Plain, penniless Helga Hufflepuff, who even before the marriage jinx had been sought after only for my pure blood and power, found it hard to hear my lovely friend's contempt for those born without her gifts.

"The dwarfs have more value than you admit. Besides, did you not agree with me, in principle, that Muggle born children of talent should have a chance of education at Hogwarts?"

"I thought you would have the sense to find children capable of appreciating their chance! That girl knows nothing!"

"How could she? She is scarcely as old as your Helena!"

"Helena, if I can remind you, is already a scholar who speaks four human languages and six magical, who studies truth in runes and is learned in magical history."

"Gloiumed has never had the chance." My voice shook a little, despite myself. Rowena wasn't even looking at me, now. Her gaze was directed at the sky showing through the trees, as if I had disappointed her too deeply to be worthy of her gaze. I longed to fling myself into her arms and beg forgiveness.

I held firm.

"Is there anything that makes you think she would be studious if she had the opportunity?"

"No." Rowena turned back to me at that, her lips slightly parted in surprise. "She is going to have the opportunity anyway."

Rowena pursed her mouth, and I braced myself for another storm of rage. Instead, her graceful shoulders suddenly shook, and her merriment rang out like a bell. "Oh, Helga, stubborn heart of my heart, there is only one of you!"

Her gaze had softened with affection. Oddly, this made me angrier. I said nothing, shifting my feet on the fallen leaves.

"Helga, let us not quarrel. I came, indeed, to give you a gift. It has arrived at last! Darling, take it as a token of friendship, and let us kiss and be friends. Don't let a peasant Muggle come between us. We swore, you know, that the four of us would not let these trifling quarrels over students break our friendship." Rowena produced a bundle, far too big to have been invisibly concealed without magic, from the velvet folds of her robes. I silently took it, unbundling it from its silken wrappings.

The muted glow of purest gold shone between my plump, unlovely hands. The cup was finely wrought, incredibly costly and beautiful. Goblin work, I was sure. A badger, my own Patronus, romped delicately on it, its eyes picked out in sapphires more blue than my ordinary eyes could ever be. A thing of incredible beauty and price...

. . .and worthless. It was small and delicate, not enough to hold enough to hold enough drink to befuddle the head, and in any case I did not drink wine or mead. And spring water's value was in quenching thirst, not in the richness of the vessel that held it.

The anger welling up crested, and I threw it back into Rowena's hands, barely noticing the scrap of parchment that fell from it. "What am I to do with such a thing, Rowena? Your poor, old maid friend, living on your charity?"

All the colour had drained from Rowena's face. "Helga." It was cold fury this time, like a sword of ice.

"Leave me!"

She did the most unforgivable thing possible. She took me at my word, turned on her heel, and disapparated.

I bent and picked up the parchment, still trembling with emotion. Just like Rowena. Words and learning were more important than simple, uninteresting matters like natural magic. Or people.

I glanced at the words, written in her familiar hand:

"To my right well-beloved Helga:  
The gold and jewels that glimmer in this cup  
Are dim next to the fiery shine  
Of a modest woman's virtuous and brave heart.  
Accept my unworthy devotion, sweet lady."

*

I have done many things in my life that required more than their fair allotment of bravery. I let Godric drag me into a den of vampires in the mountains, and only by thinking of the bereaved villagers could I force myself to take the first step into their tomb. I wandered alone into a werewolf haunted forest to gather some unicorn hairs for one of Salazar's potions. Once, I even told a nine year old Helena Ravenclaw that she was wrong in her interpretation of an Elder Futhark inscription. I am no stranger to gathering my courage around me like a garment.

I tell no lie when I say that walking into Rowena's bedchamber the evening after our quarrel made my hands shake like nothing else.

She was bent over her desk, copying from some scroll. The little golden cup was set neatly at her elbow, empty, glowing in the dim candlelight.

Rowena did not, at first, respond to my presence. I could feel the dark humor hanging around her like a cloak. For my part, I was at a loss for words, so I simply stood there, listening to the scratching of her quill.

Eventually, I became uncomfortably aware that the situation was ludicrous. After all, it was my bedchamber too, ever since my friend lost her husband. Rowena had always insisted that I was no house-elf to wait on her whim, but as beloved as family. It was time to assert that position, else I would never dare take my place beside her on the bed again. Perhaps I could not, in any case.

"As a poet," I said, "you are a wonderful scholar and witch."

Her lower lip moved. I could not tell if the quirk indicated annoyance, wounded pride or amusement. I tried again. 

"It read like the promise of a lad to his mistress, not a virtuous widow to her friend." It was useless to try and keep my tone light. It wobbled like the treble of a frightened child, and I feared I might as well have confessed all my terror and longing aloud, and damned myself to burn in Hell for naught.

She lifted her head at last, to stare into the candle flame rather than at me.

"I offer my apologies, Helga. My feelings are enough of an insult to your chastity, without forcing them on you." Her voice was distant and steady. "I have had sufficient hours to regret my rashness, and I can only ask your forgiveness and give my assurance that I will not err again. It would be a tragedy to let our great project come to an end, because of an ill chosen gift and thought. It is bad enough that Salazar and Godric quarrel, without me forcing a breach between us."

I opened my mouth to deny any breach, and could not. Rowena's face was as cool and controlled throughout her long, rehearsed speech as her voice, her gaze still averted from mine. It felt like a chasm divided us. All the way to the bedchamber, I had imagined and hoped for just this; that I had not misread the poem, that she felt the way I did. In my fancy, I had rushed to her arms and covered her face with kisses.

In the flesh, her face was too much like marble to dare.

"No insult was meant or taken, Rowena," I began, but she cut in.

"But--it was. You value truth above all things, do you not, my friend? Then I cannot bear you to be in complete ignorance of the wrong I did you. It has been hard enough, pretending." Surely, Surely I did not imagine the catch in her voice, or that her eyes were shining with more than the reflection of candlelight. "You know that I love you."

"We have always been the best and most loving of friends and sisters," I said, which was almost precisely the opposite of what I wanted to say. So much for my famed honesty.

"That is not the only way I love you," she said, still addressing the candle flame. "I feel toward you as a lover, not a sister. I suppose I read the wrong histories and poems, and allowed them to inflame my heart. I long to kiss and touch you as only a husband should touch a virtuous woman. Do you understand the insult to your honour now?"

"I--I do. I understand only too well. Rowena--"

"I have instructed the servants to make up a separate bedchamber for you. I will not insult you again. Will you forgive me?"

"Oh, Rowena! You goose!"

Her shoulders stiffened in offence and, I venture, pain. It did not matter to me. I meant to heal her pain soon enough.

I crossed to her side quickly. She still kept her head turned away, and at this closeness, I could see the trembling of her rosy lips. Clever Rowena, powerful Rowena, hard Rowena, too scared by me, me, Helga Hufflepuff, to meet my gaze. Tenderness melted my bones and, behind it, the heat of something altogether more fierce.

I lifted the headband from her brow and set it on the table. She jumped a little, and it was enough to dislodge her veil, the weight of all the expensive cloth sending it slipping partly off her head. Behind her high forehead her hair glowed like a flitterby wing in the golden light.

"Beautiful swan, I should say, not goose." I let myself touch a think braid of hair, savouring the fine texture of it. I could feel Rowena tremble at the intimacy, and at last her chin turned, her gaze meeting mine. "I am afraid that I am the waddling goose in this romance."

"I always thought geese are beautiful. Their soft feathers--"

I pressed my mouth to hers before she could compose a poem to geese.

My lips were clumsy and inexperienced, but Rowena had been wife and mother, and she knew how to guide my kiss. Her hand came up to the back of my head, and I felt my own head coverings pushed askew, but that did not matter, nothing mattered, but the molten honey of Rowena's lips and tongue and the feel of her standing and pressing against me, bosom to bosom, her statuesque reserve coming to vibrant life like Galatea.

*

When I was myself again I was trembling anew, tangled in the coverings of the bed, still pulsing and quivering deep inside myself and clutching Rowena's back in exhausted fervor. She wriggled further against me, her golden head snuggling in the crook between my arm and my naked breast, her damp, bare skin against mine feeling as natural and right as if we had always held each other this way.

"You darling," she said. "That truly was the first time you were touched, then?"

"Salazar's jinx," I began, but she pushed herself up for a moment and silenced my words with a kiss."

"Shh, Helga. I do not wish to think that you love me only because of dark magic."

"My love, no. Since I first saw your smile. You do not smile much, you know."

"I will endeavour to smile more, if it makes you burn for me," Rowena said, gravely.

"I'm sorry, about the cup," I said, awkwardly.

Rowena flushed. "No. It was an ill chosen love token for my practical sweetheart. I just wanted to show you how precious you are to me."

"Will you give it to me again? I will cherish it, this time. But," I said, struggling for firmness, "it will not change my mind about Gloiumed, or children like her."

"Oh! I will let you have your Gloiumed, and fight her cause with Salazar, if you wish. I will endeavour not to be jealous that you felt so tenderly towards her so quickly while I ached for your affection. I will even compel Helena to be her friend and protector."

"Thank you. You need not fear my love for anyone else, my jewel." I trailed my hand up her back. "I dread to think of the battle with Salazar, to tell the truth. But he need not deal with her, after all. I will make her and girls like her my own special charge, as Helena and her fellow little scholars are bound to be yours."

As I said that, there was an inkling of an idea, something to bridge the gap I could see building up between us and our beloved friends. Later, I would recall it.

For the moment, though, delicious, drowsy languor was stealing over me. I cuddled my friend, my love, more comfortably against my ample form, and let myself drift into sweet sleep.

Whatever battles I had still to face, with the unforeseen miracle of Rowena by my side and in my arms, I knew I was more than capable of winning


End file.
